


l'amour

by itsoffside



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22829392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsoffside/pseuds/itsoffside
Summary: the one where Jonny speaks French during sex and Patrick has no idea what he’s sayingwritten for the gethawksdeepprompt: 1988 friends w/ benefits
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 10
Kudos: 264





	l'amour

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed so apologies for any mistakes.  
notes: dialogues in italics used when French is spoken.

The first time they had sex was after they won their second championship.

Every hockey player dreams of winning a cup but not all can do it - and yet, here Jonny and Patrick stand with the cup raised above their heads, have now done it _twice _in just _four _fucking years, so yes, the celebration that night is warranted. Patrick wins the Conn Smythe (deservingly so) and he just looks so pleased and proud that all Jonny wants to do is wipe that smug look off his face. They are drunk, so very drunk that Jonny is able to pull Patrick with him back in the hotel room after hours of partying and they tear the clothes off each other. 

They fuck and it's hard and messy and dirty and everything perfect. Patrick’s lips are hot on his, sweat dripping on each other’s skin, lube everywhere until Patrick comes with his mouth wide open with Jonny not far behind.

The moment Jonny wakes up hours later, he leaves cause that's the only thing to do.

***

They don’t really talk about that night, never discussed any ground rules. But the thing with Jonny and Patrick is this: if something works, they’ll keep doing it until it doesn’t. It works for hockey so obviously it has to work in real life too. Every now and then, they keep fucking each other, after a rough loss maybe or a celebratory sex for a win. It doesn’t happen every after game, there’s no pattern, no rhyme or reason - just one of them would quietly follow the other in the room and that’s that. It would stop if one of them is in a relationship which really doesn’t last that very long and they’ll fall back into each other’s bed like clockwork and leave before the other wakes up.

(Sometimes though. Sometimes, Jonny will stay in bed longer than he usually does. Patrick will fall asleep first and Jonny will use the time to simply watch. Jonny’s eyes will linger over Patrick’s sharp jaw, to the curve of his cheekbone, to the way his mouth is slightly open as he quietly snores. The air will be cold against their bare skin making Patrick shiver so Jonny will pull up the blanket to cover him. Jonny will always resist the urge to touch his cheek because he fears if he does, something is going to break.)

And so everything is working perfectly as it should until it does not.

***

They’ve barely closed the door behind them when Patrick’s hands are already tangled urgently in Jonny’s shirt, shredding buttons. Jonny pushes Patrick back on the bed, cages him in between his arms as he looms over him, their eyes lock at each other briefly. Patrick shivers, going tense under him when Jonny leans forward to suck on the side of his neck, just below the ear.

“Jon, just - come on,” Patrick urges as he finally frees himself from his pants and has done the same with Jonny. He lets out a loud gasp when Jonny wraps his big, hot hand around Patrick’s cock and squeezes.

“Like this?” Jonny twists his wrist and Patrick grabs on to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s bottom lip is trapped in his teeth. He’s biting down hard until it turns white. Jonny reaches out with his free hand to touch his lip, gently freeing it from Patrick’s actions. Jonny has spent minutes and hours just looking at Patrick’s plump mouth, has dreams about it sometimes.

“_Your mouth is beautiful_,” Jonny murmurs before he can stop himself. His hand falters in shock.

Patrick opens his eyes and Jonny panics.

“What?” Patrick croaks. Jonny stares at Patrick’s confused eyes as he realizes that Patrick doesn’t understand what he just said because it was in French.

Huh.

_Patrick does not understand what he just said._

Jonny exhales shakily, feels the world tremble under him, feels the glass breaking.

“_I look at your mouth sometimes when you’re on the ice and all I want to do is to bring you down on your knees and have you suck me in front of everyone_,” Jonny says slowly, softly. “_Every one out there is looking at you, so in awe at what you do. But only I can see you like this, right Pat? This one you save for me._”

Patrick whimpers as Jonny’s hand moves faster, harder. There is sweat dripping from Patrick’s forehead and Jonny leans to swipe it with his tongue.

“_I don’t know why you make me feel these things, but you do. And sometimes, sometimes I think I don’t mind it at all,_” Jonny confesses as he kisses Patrick’s nose, kisses his closed eyelids, kisses his cheeks, his ears, kisses his panting hot mouth, until finally, Patrick grips Jonny’s biceps so hard it leaves indention from his fingernails and comes.

Later when Patrick regains his breath back, he halfheartedly slaps Jonny’s chest with his hand. “What were you saying back there?” he wants to know.

Jonny stares at the ceiling as he silently counts to ten. “I was making fun of your stupid sex face.”

Patrick hits him again, a little harder this time. “Fuck you,” he says. “Your sex face is more stupid.”

“I haven’t gotten off yet so your point is invalid.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes as he crawls in between Jonny’s legs.

Jonny closes his eyes, ignores his furiously pounding heart and tries to breathe.

***

Later on when pressed, Jonny cannot remember _how _or _when _something has changed. But he does remember this: Patrick grabbing hold of his wrist and scraping his teeth across it none too gently that it leaves mark against Jonny’s skin, Patrick smirking in between Jonny’s spread, naked thighs, Patrick gripping Jonny’s cock in between his hands and running a slow, filthy wet swipe with his tongue.

He remembers this: Patrick hugging him while crying ‘I love you Jonny. Way to step up big’ as they all skate across the ice, Patrick patting him on the back after losing against the Kings in game 7, Patrick whooping with glee as they hoist their third cup together in the air.

He remembers this: Patrick crying when they officially find out that Sharpy is traded out of Chicago, Patrick’s eyes crinkling as he smiles at Seabs’ corny dad joke, Patrick’s whole body shaking as he throws his head back in laughter at something Shawzy said.

He also remembers this: Jonny just helplessly looking at Patrick all this time.

Jonny should have known better than to start this thing with him. There is always that weird connection between them ever since they are rookies and sex is bound to mess up everything in the equation. He knows that as soon as he realizes that this arrangement is now becoming more than a casual thing to him, he should have stopped it. Someone is bound to hurt and here’s a hint: he’s the captain of a hockey team.

But Jonny _wants _so muchand he is too much of a coward to let go of something that is already in his hands. So they keep on fucking and Jonny keeps hiding behind foreign words he knows Patrick does not speak. It is not ideal but it is the best that Jonny can give for now.

***

“_You feel so good_,” Jonny pants against Patrick’s neck. “_So good_.” Patrick’s legs are curled around his hips and Jonny’s palms are hot against Patrick’s naked sweaty back. “_I could never want anyone else besides you.”_

Patrick grabs a fistful of Jonny’s hair and pulls his head back. “Tell me what you just said,” he orders, eyes blown wide in lust.

“You feel so good,” Jonny says honestly. Patrick just stares at him for a moment.

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” Patrick laughs before he pushes back just as hard against him. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Speak French when we’re having sex. You know I don’t speak your weird language.”

Jonny simply kisses him in an attempt to shut him up. Patrick moans against him and it works.

***

There are times when Jonny can't get the taste of Patrick out of his mouth. He lingers heavily in Jonny’s tongue, like an aftertaste of wine, like a stain in his soul, etched for eternity. It stays with him hours after they share the same bed, hours after they’ve blown each other’s mind with pleasure. They’ve fucked so many times he can map the curves and shape of Patrick’s body in his sleep. He knows just the right way that twisting his fingers like _this_ can make Patrick gasp just like _that. _There is a certain satisfaction of knowing each other’s bodies that it always makes sex between them so good, so right, that no matter what happens in the future, at least they’ll always have this between them.

Every time they share a kiss, Jonny whispers sweet nothings in Patrick’s ear, promises forever, promises the world.

And every time they share a kiss, Patrick understands nothing.

***

It takes a devastating shutout loss against the Ducks and the seventh game in a row where Patrick has been kept off the score sheet that makes Patrick turn to Jonny and says, “I want you to fuck me hard.”

Jonny, who is already naked, shrugs and says, “Okay.”

Patrick pushes him on the bed hard. “No foreplay,” he says as he reaches for the lube and squirts it right onto Jonny’s cock. Jonny winces when Patrick grabs it a bit harder than normal.

“Hey, hey,” he says, sitting up. “Slow down.”

“No,” is all Patrick says as he positioned himself, then grimacing as he tries to lower himself on Jonny. Jonny stops him.

“As much I want to have sex like a normal person, I do want to keep my dick intact,” Jonny says. He takes Patrick’s face in between his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick swallows. “I’m useless.”

Jonny laughs. “No you’re not.”

“I haven’t scored any point Jon.”

“It happens.”

“I’m snake-bitten.”

“It happens.”

“We’re on a losing streak.”

“It happens.”

Patrick pulls away in irritation. “You gonna say anything else or what?” he snaps.

Jonny exhales sharply and grabs the back of Patrick’s head for better leverage and pulls him closer. He rests his forehead against Patrick’s. They are completely quiet, their chest slowly rising and falling in unison with each breath. 

“Jon,” Patrick whispers, looking confused. “What are you -”

Jonny shushes him and Patrick shuts his mouth as a sheen of sweat pools in between their foreheads. “You’re the best player I’ve ever known Pat. So you haven’t scored in the past games, so what? You’re going to get one soon, and once you do, you’ll never stop. You’ve always been unstoppable, there’s nothing changing that now.” Jonny takes Patrick’s wrists, puts his lips right at his pulse point and sucks at it like he wants to draw the blood out. He could feel Patrick’s racing heart rate under his tongue, and he kisses the skin softly, and kisses it again and again until Patrick’s pulse slows down. Jonny moves his head until his nose rests against the crook of Patrick’s shoulder where he can breathe in Patrick’s scent.

“_I don’t like it when you look like this. You deserve all the happiness in the world. I want to give it to you if you let me,_” he says against Patrick’s skin and he can feel Patrick swallow hard. 

When he raises his head, Patrick is looking at him quietly.

“What?”

The corner of Patrick’s mouth lifts to a small smile. "French sounds funny."

Jonny bristles. "It's not - "

Patrick takes Jonny’s hand in his. “Thanks.”

Jonny glances at their entwined hands. “Sure,” is all he says.

They stay like that for a while, holding each other’s hand as they sit naked on top of Jonny’s bed.

“I’m hungry,” Patrick says suddenly.

Jonny sighs and pushes himself out of the bed. “Let me see what’s in the fridge.”

Two nights later, Patrick scores his third goal off a beautiful saucer pass from Jonny to complete his hat trick and his fifth point of the night to seal the win against the Caps. Jonny can only smile back as Patrick skates across the ice towards him for a celebratory hug, his face lit up with a huge beaming grin.

***

In retrospect, Jonny should have texted or called first before going to Patrick’s place, but they’ve done this so many times, it’s almost a routine.

Erica beams at him when she opens the door. “Jonny!” she greets, eyes twinkling warmly. “It’s been so long.”

Jonny grips the six-pack he’s holding in his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’re here,” he says after Erica gives him a hug. “I should go.”

“What? Nonsense!” Erica takes the beer, grabs Jonny’s arm and pulls him inside the condo. “The more the merrier.” Then, raising her voice, she shouts: “Pat! Jonny’s here!”

When Jonny looks up, he sees Patrick standing in the kitchen. “Sorry,” Jonny mouths. “Should have called.”

Patrick shrugs while Erica puts the beer in the fridge.

“Anyway, you’re just in time. I’m making Pat’s favorite mac and cheese so you can stay and have dinner with us,” she says as she pushes Patrick away from the stove.

“Do you usually have dinner together, Jonny?” she asks, except she is not looking at Jonny but at Patrick who is staring at the wall.

“I -uh, sometimes,” Jonny answers and Patrick walks out of the kitchen.

Erica’s mouth briefly tightens before she turns and smiles at Jonny. “I hate to ask this of you as you’re a guest, but can you help Pat set up the table? I’ll finish up here. It’s just a few more minutes.”

Jonny nods and follows Patrick in the dining room where he is pulling out the plates from the cabinet. Patrick quietly hands over the utensils to Jonny and Jonny carefully sets them up on the table.

“Sorry,” Jonny says again. “I didn’t know your sister’s in town.”

Patrick sighs. “It’s just dinner Jon. It’s fine.” He pauses as he takes in Jonny’s freshly showered appearance. “Oh.” He lowers his voice. “Is this a booty call, captain?”

There’s something tense in the way Patrick asks the question. “No,” Jonny says honestly. “I thought, you know. We could just hang out.”

“Hang out,” Patrick repeats. “Is that what they call it nowadays?”

Jonny frowns. “What?” he asks, a bit confused at Patrick’s tone.

Patrick just looks at him.

They are saved by Erica’s appearance with the food. “Here you go, boys. It’s nothing like you guys are used to eating from renowned chefs, but it's made of love so it’s gotta do. And you know what they say, love always makes everything better,” she smiles, clasping her hands together. She squeezes Patrick’s arms gently. “Dig in.”

***

That night, Patrick kneels in between Jonny’s legs. Jonny tries to stifle his moans by covering his mouth but Patrick bats his hand away.

“She won’t hear you,” Patrick says. “The walls are thick.”

Patrick’s tongue darts out to lick his plump lower lip and Jonny has to restrain himself not to bite it himself. Patrick slides his fist down Jonny’s cock, opens his mouth and lowers his head. He stays like that for a few moments, his breath hot and teasing, and then after what feels like forever, Patrick lightly licks the head of Jonny’s cock.

Jonny’s head rolls back against the pillow as Patrick licks him, once, twice, softly, teasingly, and keeps repeating it again and again. Jonny grabs a fistful of Patrick’s curls, shivering under his mouth. Patrick just licks and licks, tongue hot and wet and wraps his long fingers all the way around, and keeps on licking and licking until Jonny feels like he wants to scream.

This isn’t the first time Patrick has gone down on him, but for some reason, Patrick is more intense, more determined tonight.

“Pat,” Jonny whimpers. “Come on. Stop teasing.”

Patrick’s eyelashes flutter as he looks up at Jonny and Patrick holds Jonny’s cock in his hands, tightening his grip fleetingly before loosening it again. The friction is not yet enough to make Jonny come, but it doesn’t stop him from shifting his legs, widening the spread of his thighs to pull Patrick closer. There are nights when Patrick acts like this, enjoys seeing Jonny on the edge, likes to remind Jonny how much power he has over him, that he can keep Jonny trembling and begging for him with just a hand on him, and Jonny - Jonny will stay there on the edge for as long as Patrick wants him to.

“_Fuck Pat, you make me crazy. I want your mouth on me right now please_,” Jonny says, pulling on Patrick’s curls none too gently. And Patrick seems to finally pity him because he opens his mouth and swallows Jonny whole, until the tip of Jonny’s cock hits the back of Patrick’s throat.

It does not take Jonny long before he comes. By the time Jonny’s brain is back to functioning, Patrick is already jerking himself, his free hand clutching Jonny’s arm.

“Hey, let me,” Jonny says, raising himself up and taking Patrick’s cock in his hands. “_I got you Pat_._ I got you._” Patrick rests his forehead against Jonny’s, closes his eyes and just lets Jonny work. "_You're so good, so good_._ I love seeing you like this. You look amazing._" Patrick comes with a gasp moments later, shooting all over Jonny’s hand and slumping down against him, panting hard.

Patrick suddenly reaches out to take Jonny’s face in between his hands and eases Jonny’s mouth open with his own. His tongue curls around Jonny’s, pulls him closer until Jonny is practically enveloping him, and Jonny’s hands are touching Patrick’s skin, everywhere he can reach. They’re grinding against each other, but it's much calmer now, slower and gentler. Jonny’s skin is burning from the intensity and he loves it, as much as he loves Pat, wants him so fucking much.

When they finally stop kissing, Jonny has to hide his face against Patrick’s throat, his breath coming up slowly. His heart is pounding so fast, he's worried he's going to die.

“You okay?” Patrick finally asks when Jonny does not move for a long time. Patrick’s hand is warm against his back, tracing shapeless patterns.

Jonny takes a moment before answering. “Yeah.”

Sometimes, in moments like this Jonny thinks of what could have been if neither of them are hockey superstars whose numbers will one day be up in the rafters after they retire, or just if they aren’t _Kane _and _Toews_, perpetually in competition against each other and the world. But none of these would have happened if they weren't _them _and Jonny has to take the good along with the bad, if it means he can stay on Patrick’s side for a long, long time.

“I should go. It’s getting late,” Jonny says after a while.

Patrick hums. “Or you can stay. Erica has an early flight tomorrow. She won’t even know you’re still here.”

Jonny looks at him in surprise. It's the first time either of them offered the other to stay. He shifts up to his elbows. “You sure?”

“Yeah man. I’m used to your snores anyway.”

Jonny makes a face at him. He stays on his side of the bed all night long, barely moving, else he takes Patrick in his arms and never lets go.

*

Jonny wakes up to the sound of muffled raised voices. He’s the only one in bed, with Patrick most likely already up to see his sister off. He gets up and starts putting on his pants when his head shoots up in surprise as he thinks he heard his name. He really does not want to get into any sibling quarrels - Erica especially is kind of scary, but it figures that she’s the one who always calls Patrick out on his bullshit - but he does not think he said or did anything last night to warrant a fight that included him. Unless… she knows about him staying the night? But Patrick had assured him she didn’t.

He finishes up buttoning his shirt and quietly walks up to the door and leans his ear against it. There are still some muffled noises, but he can’t hear any audible yelling or shouting anymore. He waits for a few more minutes until there is silence outside, then slowly, quietly, he opens the door.

The place is empty save for Patrick sitting on a kitchen stool, his head cradling in between his hands as he leans against the counter. His shoulder is hunched down and he’s just taking deep, calming breaths.

“Pat?”

Patrick quickly raises his head in surprise. “Hey,” he says, standing up. “I didn’t know you were awake.” He hesitates. 

Jonny shrugs. “What were you and Erica fighting about?”

A shadow passes over Patrick’s face. “Nothing important,” he mutters.

“Okay.” Patrick and Erica always get into petty arguments. He remembers once when they were roommates how Patrick ended up in a shouting match with her via facetime about who should win the Iron Throne (for the record - Erica is right and Patrick is dumb. Jon Snow is honorable and brave and just wants to live his life quietly which means he’s the best person to take the throne and if Jonny gets the occasional comparison with the character, _well,_ that is neither here nor there), so he really isn’t that worried about what they are arguing about now. But Patrick looks miserable and Jonny always hates that look on him.

“She’ll get over it,” Jonny says confidently. “You’ll see - once she gets back to Buffalo, she’ll be calling you in no time.”

“Yeah,” he says, but he still looks distracted. Jonny checks the time and figures he can be late for an hour before going to the gym.

“You… wanna talk about it?” Jonny asks.

“I don’t know... Do you?” Patrick shots back.

Jonny blinks at him in confusion. “What?”

“What?” Patrick crosses his arms.

Jonny rewinds their conversation in his head. He kinda feels like he missed a step somewhere. “Okay, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve been kinda weird since dinner,” he says.

Patrick looks away and for some reason, Jonny feels a stab of annoyance.

“Seriously, Peeks. If you have something to say, just say it. You always do this passive-aggressive bullshit when something doesn’t go your way-”

“_Erica wants me to talk to you about us_,” Patrick says in French, still staring at the wall.

And Jon _stops_ and so does his heart. He feels like all the air is sucked from his lungs. He cannot move. He cannot breathe. He has never felt so unsure in his whole life before that moment.

“What did you say?” Jonny whispers, his stomach churning.

A beat, then Patrick slowly turns his head, lifts his chin defiantly and looks at Jonny straight in the eye, the color blue piercing through his entire being.

“_Erica wants me to talk to you about us_,” he repeats in his terrible accent, but the clarity and understanding of the phrase is right _fucking _there.

Jonny steps back, blood rushing to his head. “I -” he swallows. “I thought you don’t speak French.”

“I’ve been studying.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. “Since when?”

“A year and a half, maybe.” Patrick bites his lip. “I’ve been talking to Crow sometimes, for practice. I asked him not to tell anyone. I still can’t hold full conversations, but I can pick up important words and understand them.”

Jonny quickly tries to remember. _A year and a half._ The Ducks game was over three months ago.

He stands there motionless, suddenly afraid to look at Patrick.

_A year and a half. _That time Patrick laughed at him for speaking French during sex was seven months ago.

“Sorry, I should have told you sooner but I don’t know how. You… you keep saying things in French all those time and at first I thought it would be funny if I learn a few words so I can _finally_ make fun of your sex face too but-” Patrick stops because they both know Jonny never said anything like that. "And I waited cause I thought... If you _really_ want to tell me something, you're just going to say it but... you never did," he trails off. 

_A year and a half. _Jonny remembers saying _I want you, _remembers saying _I’m yours_, remembers whispering _I love you I love you I love you_.

“You never said anything,” Jonny finally says, voice breaking.

Patrick exhales sharply. “Cause I wanted you to keep saying them to me and I was afraid that if I let you know I understand what you’re saying, you’re going to stop.” He blinks up at Jonny. “I never want you to stop Jon.”

Fifteen feet away from Jonny is the bedroom where they’ve fucked each other, exchanged bodily fluids, shared kisses and touches. Twenty-five feet away from him is the door where he can escape and try to regroup. There are only five feet that separates him from the one person who owns his heart and soul yet somehow that short distance seems much farther away and feels like a million miles.

But Patrick is still here standing in front of him, unafraid. And that’s always been the case, isn’t it? Jonny is a coward and has always hid behind a language he knows Pat couldn’t understand because he is scared of what he would say, and of course Patrick _fucking _Kane decides to one up him and learn it himself, and now there is nowhere else Jonny could hide behind from. Patrick - beautiful, cocky Patrick who once said that learning other language is dumb because American English is already the best language in the entire world - has been learning how to speak French because he’s too much of a coward to tell him what he really feels. Patrick who is currently staring at him, waiting, a hint of uncertainty in his face.

Between the two of them, Patrick has always been the braver one, and now maybe, maybe it’s time for Jonny himself to stop being scared. They've been through so many highs and lows all these years. Whatever happens after this, they'll have each other and Jonny thinks that together, Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews are unstoppable. They always have been.

A year and a half Patrick waited and all it took for him to finally answer was to take three steps towards him.

“_What else can you say in French_?” Jonny asks.

A warm dimpled smile breaks Patrick's face as he too takes a step forward, closing in the gap between them. He presses his lips against Jonny's and slowly mouths _je t’aime pour toujours._

**Author's Note:**

> comments are love. thank you for reading!  
[tumblr](https://jboner1988.tumblr.com)👉👈 


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